What Everyone Knew, But He Forgot to Say
by RaeAnne
Summary: HCam. It takes him a minute to see, but once he does it’s hard to miss. She’s wearing red today. Set after Top Secret, this summary is terrible but I hope the story isn't. No plot, just some dramatic fluff. Hope you enjoy! CHAPTER 3 9.19.07 FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

_TITLE:_ What Everyone Knew…But He Forgot to Say  
_AUTHOR:_ RaeAnne  
_RATING: _R  
_SPOILERS:_ Up to Top Secret (Season 3)  
_DISCLAIMER: _Standard—House, Cameron & Co, not mine—but the laptop on which I typed this story is...if that counts for anything…

_**Author's Note: **_Just a quick one :-) Okay **firstly**, I know the title doesn't make sense, I honestly don't know for sure where I got it from…but I really like and to me it fits…and I haven't a clue why. **Secondly**, this story is actually pretty old, I started it about a week after Top Secret first aired, but only finished it at the beginning of July—just took me this long to getting around to typing it up…so even though it looks like I'm neglecting that other story I haven't updated in almost a month I'm not…not really…okay so maybe a little bit, but not on purpose I promise! I just needed something to get me back into a House mode… **Thirdly,** this story is a bit more…well more sensual than my usual fare, it doesn't have a plot—pretty much just an excuse to write a love scene (badly, I'm just not that good at it…but anyway) so I hope you won't judge it too harshly. And **Lastly,**_ENJOY_!

**Chapter 1:**

For once he's there before she is; a rare thing since he's usually last. She won't make eye contact, but that's okay—he's used to that.

It takes him a minute to see, but once he does it's hard to miss. She's wearing red today.

He always thought she looked good in red but she hardly ever wore it—just once—that dress…the first time he saw her that night for a moment he couldn't think.

Red was her color he decided then, which made him wonder why she seemed to only wear browns or shades of pink. Red, he thought, would make her look dangerous. That deep explicit shade so seductive and naughty, it made him think that if she could wear the color, really wear it—not subdued or hindered by a white lab coat, that it would unwind her—excite her.

But she seemed to refuse to wear it…just those damn neutrals and even more damned shades of baby pink. In that horrid pink she was innocent and soft—in pink she was sweet, oh but in red he was sure she would be enthralling and a bit wicked.

In pink she had him wanting, but in red he was sure she would have him begging.

He notices shocked, as she goes through the motions of making coffee that seemed to be second nature, that she's wearing bits of red. 'Did she wear it for me?' he wonders but at the moment she turns full towards him red coffee cup folding between both hands. He balks, it's wrong—it's all wrong! The red of her lips makes him think 'whore' and the candy apple red on her nails makes him think of blood, of bleeding hearts. The red in her eyes lets him now that last night she had been drunk—or maybe high? But mostly it just slaps him across the face with the truth, which was that last night she wasn't with him.

She connects her gaze with his; he pushes his chair back, recoiling from her.

He sees the red, he realizes it wasn't applied for the day—it was left over from the night. His face turns to detestation. Her red lips show the stain of the lip color, not the sheen…he sees the feathering of the line of her full mouth—it wasn't his that rubbed it skewed.

A silent invisible fist slams into his stomach as it becomes crystal clear that the chips in the tips of nail lacquer are there from when she tore her nails down another man's back… The red…she wore it for _him_, like she would never do for him.

Knowing flickers over her face, she knows that he knows, knows that it's all too obvious and she wishes it could have happened differently—but in an angry happy sort of way glad to have done with.

"…Chase…"

"Don't…okay—just don't," he holds up a hand toward her in disgust, the look turning over him was of soul twisting disbelief, anger and on the fringe—humiliation.

"I…" she wants to explain but instead nods her silence.

He can't stand to look at her. His breathing is labored, work seemingly not worth the effort. He silently wishes and prays to have her back—back in her shades of pink, when she was his… Why in the devil had he ever thought she'd look good in red?

------------------------------------------------------

_**Last Night**_

The rain poured violently, she truly understood the term 'raining in sheets' now. It was as thick and as unrelenting as it was enveloping. She struggled with the keys to her apartment building door; being unsuccessful she kicked it furiously.

She cursed then when the wet keys slipped from her hand into the mucky concrete slick with city mire. Perhaps she wouldn't have been so pissed if she wasn't shivering in her strapless dress soaked to the bone, if her four inch strappy heels weren't killing her feet, if her mascara wasn't running into her eyes and if she hadn't spent the last twenty minutes kicking herself for ever going out in the first place.

"Fuck," she let the curse blow through lips she had pressed together till a thin line as she rested her forehead against the door even as the rain pelted down on her. She was certifiable. What was wrong with her? She was spinning out of control and knew it. She was sleeping with Chase who really, she could hardly stand but wasn't the worst sex she'd had. She was two short steps from anorexia, her brain hammered; she knew it—but didn't care. She didn't give a damn about anything anymore it seemed.

She was teetering on a reckless edge and found she was getting almost euphoric thrill from almost falling. She wanted to be close to the ledge, wanted to stare it down and feel the rush…she didn't really want to fall…but almost falling? Well that was rush.

"It works better if you put the key in the lock."

Cameron jumped, whipped around pressing her back against the door heart pounding and to top it off, she had almost fallen on her ass.

"What are you doing here?" She wanted to believe her voice was calm, firm—controlled, but she really wasn't naive…not anymore anyway.

"You left before I could say hello."

She wanted to close her eyes in exasperation but refused, believing it would be a sign of weakness. Not that him standing there in the sheeting rain, clothes as drenched as her own, cane gripped firmly, decisively in his beautiful pianist hand would make her weak…

"I was just there to drink, not make nice House."

"In that get-up?" he gestured with his chin to her dress.

She folded her arms over her chest, she had no coat but she couldn't kid herself, she wasn't doing it because she was cold, the move was defensive and not just from his all-seeing gaze.

"It was a club…why were you even there?"

Apparently he was the only one who realized they were shouting as he was on the sidewalk and she on the uncovered building stoop a good few yards away. He moved forward, but not too much.

"It's around the corner from my house. Normally I drink at the bar next door—but they had a fire last week…"

His usual style was to evade questions or answer them with questions of his own—never, ever, answer them, so it caught her off guard.

She didn't comment or ask another question so he ventured a comment, "You're going to ruin that dress in the rain...then what would you wear to the next benefit?"

Her cheeks flushed, he remembered. "Can say the same thing about your jacket…leather is never good in the rain…" she straightened from her slumped position against the door trying to steel herself.

"Yeah, we should get out of the rain."

She jumped, startled when he was suddenly in front of her taking the keys out of her hand. She must have blinked, but she couldn't remember doing it, but she didn't blink now as he all but pressed up against her, taking the key she had segregated previously, putting it in the lock and turned. She could feel the warmth he radiated even through the cold wet that clung. She could smell his soap reinvigorated by the rain as well. She shivered.

"What are you doing House…why are you here?"

"You didn't give me the chance to say goodbye…" he looked down at her raccoon eyes and red painted mouth.

"We never said hello remember?" her voice was halting—rasping.

"Too true…" he tipped his head, "Hello Dr. Cameron."

* * *

_**TBC **_

_**This story is pretty short, should total 3 short-ish chapters. I hope you enjoy, thanks so much for reading! Lots of Love RA **_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank so much for all the reviews!! So glad you're enjoying, I hope that if there is an confusion that this chapter will make it a bit more clear...but please don't hesitate if there is things left unclear! Happy Reading! RA _

* * *

She should have never put on the dress. In fact, she should have burned it after the benefit. She bought it for that night and hadn't worn it after. It made her think of the man who was now soaking into her couch. She couldn't wear red after that without thinking of him; of his reaction…thinking of how powerful, how sexy and confident that one look made her feel. She hadn't felt like that in long time…it had been even longer now.

Now she most times felt cheap, broken and used but tonight, just for a few hours she had wanted to feel desirable, truly so. So she had put on the dress, did her nails and her lips in that shade of red all the while thinking of him and that pure carnal gleam, that appreciation and near supplication that was his look when he turned and took her in on that night…no man's gaze had ever felt like that… And tonight she craved just a shred of that.

Her heart had stopped when he had showed up tonight, she couldn't believe it. She had been downing rum and coke's as fast the bartender could put them down. It wasn't a classy drink, a girly drink or a sophisticated drink to be sure, but when she drank it wasn't to impress or to spend money on drinks that had little real alcohol in them. If he hadn't walked in she surely would have been moving to shots as the rum and cokes weren't doing anything for her.

She left an almost new one sitting on the bar when her eyes connected with her bosses for less than a fraction of a second. In that still moment a thousand thoughts swirled to the rhythm of the bartender who worked a Boston shaker; she wondered if he was seeing her like he had seen her at the benefit, or if he was seeing her sitting on table in the supply closet with Chase's hands up her shirt like he had Friday. She couldn't wait to find out it, she couldn't stand that embarrassment.

Now it was obvious—he had followed her.

"Here," she offered him a cup of the coffee that had just finished brewing, "I'm going to go change." She didn't know why she felt she needed to explain but she did and started toward the bedroom.

"Don't."

She turned, "What?"

"Don't change…not yet," he beckoned her back.

"House I'm soaked…why do you care if I…" she stopped eyes widening, mouth opened in a wide O—_the_ _look_ was in his eyes.

"It worked you know—I don't like him touching you."

She sat in the chair at the start of the hall, she could no longer stand and her head was dizzy.

"I'm a selfish bastard Cameron—I don't share what's mine."

Her face went white but her skin crawled with goose bumps and she felt hot, flushed, "I'm not yours."

He chuckled softly, contemptuously, "You were mine the first day you walked into my office."

She was up, out of her chair and hand stinging before it fully registered.

"I didn't say I wanted it like that—it's just a matter of fact," he rubbed his hand across his slightly burning cheek, "But it still remains that you belong to me and I don't like it when another man touches you—puts his hands all over you…I get angry…I see red," he grinned wickedly eyes on her dress still wet and clinging.

"You don't give a damn about me, you think me a possession—that's so flattering!" she dripped sarcasm and malice. "Sorry if I don't give a crap about your ego, I'm glad you don't like it! I'm glad that it makes you angry that snot nosed, kiss-ass, stool pigeon Chase is screwing with your 'toys'! You want to think me 'lobby art', think me property fine….you can go to hell."

House had been lounging languidly on her couch, expression passive on the surface though his eyes burned brightly with anticipation. He stood now, leaving his cane, he towered over. He flicked on a bewitching grin "Does he know how you really feel about him?"

She refused to answer just as she refused to back away from his intimidation tactics—she wouldn't give the satisfaction. She fisted her hands on her hips glaring.

"I could have had you a long time ago…" House snaked an arm around her waist drawing her across the infinitesimal distance to feel her against him.

"Yes—but I don't want you now."

"Keep saying it…maybe you'll convince your heart." He captured one of her wrists lifting it up showing her his thumb and finger clamped on her throbbing pulse point. Of course there was a more obvious emotional connotation to his statement but he wasn't going to state the apparent.

"Why now House? Why try and get me now?"

He half smirked, "I thought I just told you why, I don't like Chase touching you. I don't like the idea of anyone touching you."

"That's what I'm just not getting, you never gave a damn before!" she was verbally arguing but the thought of pulling away physically just hadn't even entered her mind, House found that telling.

"I've always cared—why do you think I always grind at you about anything that has to do with you being attracted to another man? I didn't want you, but I don't want anyone else to have you either." He was so nonchalant and cool about this statement that Cameron couldn't even summon up appropriate outrage—she just blinked.

"And now…you're being touched by a man who doesn't deserve you, that you don't even like…and you know what else Allison?" his voice was quiet and soft, it drew her in like a doomed moth to the burning flame.

"What…?" she said on an exhaled breath.

"I don't like watching you breakdown…"

"I'm not…" she stopped her protest when he caught her chin firmly.

"You're not eating, this 'just sex' with Chase…you're dressing like a sixty year old woman, your eyes are sunken, your cheeks hollow. You don't smile anymore…you're breaking down…you're losing control Cameron."

She hissed in a breath of protest.

"I saw you tonight and I was angry. Angry that you were in a sleazy club looking ready to throw yourself at the first guy to ask…I was angry at myself for letting that happen to you…perhaps even causing it."

"You self-righteous, self important, indulgent arrogant ass! There are other things in my life besides you! My world isn't centered on you! Now let me go!" she writhed in his grip that has seconds ago been pliable and tender but now was iron.

"I hold no delusions, but I won't lie either. To this I pushed you…I want to fix it."

"You can't."

"I'm going to try."

"It's not your place."

"Maybe not…but I'm going to make you forget him. I'm going to make you forget what it's like to hurt…"

She shuddered in his arms, "You don't make people feel better…you break them…you hurt them…" She couldn't stop the tremors that were starting to tear over her.

His hands were roaming over her back, over her hips. He rocked her hips against his, his fingers splayed on her bones. "That's because I never cared before…I care now," he accentuated his words by moving to kiss shoulder.

"Don't…don't…" she demanded even as she pushed her hands around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair to keep his mouth right where it was.

"I can't break what's already broken…" He fisted his hand in her dark wet tresses pulling her head back, "I want you Cameron…" he growled kissing her exposed neck, nipping at the delicate tendons, sucking erotically along the white, tender skin where her pulse visibly pounded, where her clavicle jutted severely at sharp angles.

"I want you…" he lifted his other hand from her hip laying it on her cool still damp skin just above her heaving breasts, feeling her thudding heart which he wanted to make beat for him, "Let me have you Cameron…let me take all of you…"

Her knees were hardly supporting her, she wanted to pull away—she wanted his hands, his mouth to devour every inch…she wanted him to stop—she prayed he never would.

"Now you want me…now? Why now…" she quaked. Every bone felt like dissolved, liquid diamonds…the matter which had once been solid now coursed through her bright and reflecting, magnifying every heartbeat, every rasped too small breath, every internal moan…every primal insatiable tremor.

"Because…the one time with Chase…I could ignore it, could deal with it. But with this? I won't, I can't. I want you Cameron, I believe I wanted you from the same moment you became mine..."

It was a chore, but she made herself do it—she looked up to his face and her eyes met his. Cold fire, cold blue flames. They chilled her; they set her blood on fire. "So…you only want me because someone else does?"

"Hmm…he can never have you totally. He could never hope to consume you like I will. He's never made you throb in your core so that you feel like you're flying, like you've been reborn in the very molten ashes in which you died… He's never made you come so powerfully you've cried has he? Has any man?"

She opened her mouth to retort—but nothing came, she closed it again.

"I'm going to."

How had his hand found its way to the inside of her thigh, she wondered, but it was a brief, fleeting thought as he stroked her. "What…what if…I don't want you to?"

He could barely make out the words though her badly repressed gasps and moans, "I'd call you liar, because Allison I know you want me…" His long nimble, slightly callused fingers inched and toyed.

She forced herself to take control and she did so by taking two large steps back. The feeling of dismal wrenching loss was instantaneous.

He watched her curiously, devilishly. He was pleased with what he saw. Eyes glassy, the lines of concern, the perpetual frown…they were gone, replaced with a softness that he had missed for so long. She was doing strange things to him…had done irreconcilable damage to his character…she was changing him to be human.

Slowly rational thoughts began to return as did her breath. She stared at his face seeking some truth, some meaning far bigger than what was written with his words. He was telling the truth. He did want her; he wanted her as much as she wanted him. A glow started in her—it would be okay. With new security in hand she decided to play.

"If I had had any idea that having an on-going fling with Chase would get you like this…I might have done it a long time ago…certainly wouldn't have hid it as we did." she cocked her head, wetting her lips, tasting the chalkiness of her lipstick with 3 hours of its 8 hour promise expended.

"You call that hiding it? I don't see how you could have made it any more easy for me to find out…" he grinned watching her shed the layers of harshness, of bitterness, of hurt—watching to her seemingly shrug off years and become, albeit slowly, the Cameron she had been before she broke. "…Unless you did it on my desk."

"That was next," she started back toward the hall, "I wanted you to be jealous." She stopped at her bedroom door, calling over her shoulder, "Coming?"

His gaze was positively rapacious, his smile possessive.

He headed after her, leaving his cane lying on the couch, her shoes by the door and their broken pieces scatter on the living room floor. This wasn't about 'fixing' or 'healing' it was about a need. A need between two people so violently pulled together by that primal animal magnetism that they had no choice but to act.

They belonged together.

* * *

_**One more chapter to go... Hope you enjoyed! RA :-) **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey there! Well here it is, the final chapter! YEAH! Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing! Thanks so much for your reviews and reading. With much, much love --RaeAnne**_

* * *

------------------------------------------------------

She was sitting on the end of the bed when he came in rubbing her right foot along the calf of left leg.

"Did I ever tell you I like you in red?"

She bit her lip grinning, loving how husky, how rough his voice was. She was doing that to him, she was making him want. She liked that.

"I only wear it when I think of you."

"Is that so?" he closed the door behind him approaching slowly, trying to minimize his limp.

"Yeah," she replied lifting her foot from her leg to his, to tease along his calf.

"You never wear red," he stepped closer, stopping her skimming, scheming foot.

She tipped her head back leaning on elbows to see him, "That you see…I like keep you close."

He tried not to smirk as he reached down grabbing her arm and pulling her up against him. "I think we can get you out of that dress now. "

He never took his eyes off hers as he reached behind to slowly lower the zipper. There was such havoc and glee playing in the sea colored depths, it was next to intoxicating.

The zipper was down and the bodice of the dress was sagging, she purred nudging under his chin to gain access to his neck where she lavishly kissed and tasted.

His large hands were inside her dress, roaming her slender back, toying with the band of her thong.

She pulled away smiling coyly letting the dress fall then stepped from the ring flinging it away with her foot. She stood in a scarlet strapless bra and matching lace thong. "I like it when you don't wear a t-shirt." She was all grin as she ran the pad of one finger along the V of his black shirt, playing with the buttons. She replaced her touch with her lips. His skin was warm, his chest hair tickled. She smiled against him feeling powerful, in control and wicked when she heard the slightest hitch in his breathing.

"Did you know I think you're the sexiest man I've ever met?" she worked the buttons of the shirt slowly.

With every button she released she placed another kiss traveling downward. She'd never grow tired of the taste of him. It was salt, something virile and completely male…and tantalizing sin. With the buttons freed she pushed the cotton material off his shoulders and off his arms.

"Look at me Allison," he ordered as she focused on undoing his belt, undoing the button of his jeans…sliding down the zipper.

She felt obliging so she met his heavy vivid blue stare.

"I'm going to make you scream," he simply vowed hands moving fast and with surprising strength threw onto the bed where she lay dazed for a moment while he finished ridding himself of his jeans.

He came down on her, his length covering her entirely, one knee between her legs, hands above her head where he captured hers also. His mouth, wide, hot and hungry touched everywhere.

"Greg…" she whispered as her body began the scintillating road toward oblivion with his deft touch as guide. She wanted his mouth on hers--she wanted him to kiss her. Wiggling her hands free of his grip she circled his neck, twined her fingers into his hair to get his attention to where she desperately wanted it.

Knowing what she wanted, he willing gave it. His kissed her hard and quick then trapped her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down till she whimpered just slightly with pain—and pleasure. He wanted to possess her, he conquered her mouth with his tongue; his and hers—they battled, dueled and mated. The kiss was drowning, she gasped for air only to have him fill her.

She rocked up, struggling with a depth of need so profound, so consuming, so maddening she thought she might burst with it. The whole of her vibrated and hummed.

"I…I…need you…" she tore her mouth away increasing her hold on his neck pulling him down on her, needing to be close, needing him to be with her, of her…needing him so that she shook almost uncontrollably.

"Almost…" he soothed, dealing with her bra before pulling away from her vice hold. He watched her face as he ran his touch along on her side making small gooseflesh rise as he traced a circle around her bellybutton and continued down over the tops of her thighs, pausing at the back of her knee where he tickled it, bent it and kissed it before starting the tour all over again.

"All mine…all for me…" he was pleased and showed it, he curled a finger around the band of her panties pulling them off.

"House…" she pled and the coil inside of her tightened so that she couldn't hardly breathe. Her skin burned like the fires in deepest rings of hell.

He teased her, stroked her, she gasped. He caressed and she anchored her hands in the sheets as her body bucked.

She squeezed her eyes shut, slashes of blue and silver painted the insides of her eyelids. She swallowed a scream—she was close, she was on the edge.

"Almost…" House purred kissing the bones of her hips but stilling his strokes. He wanted to be inside her when she came, when she dived off that ledge. He wanted to fall with her.

Her breathing become a little more normal and she started to reach for his boxers but he thwarted her, brushing her hands away, "Later…now it's about you…now is about making you remember only me…" he returned to assaulting her mouth, her neck, her collar bone, to suckling her breasts.

She couldn't wait any longer, she couldn't breathe, it was unbearable, and she needed, now. "Greg…" his name was a plea she would have screamed against his neck but she didn't have the air. She kissed behind his ear, bit the lobe making him know she meant what she said.

He had rid himself of his boxers at some point and his need was stoked and as ready as hers. It was time to jump.

It started slow, he started easy, intending to slowly drive her insane, to make her as mad as she made him—but she wasn't willing to go slow. She accepted him, she demanded more, he answered, and he gave. He set a pace, she wanted faster, harder. He continued to answer, to exceed and their bodies soared together.

She was almost lost completely. Both were sticky with sweat, hearts pounding like they could jump out of their chests.

"More!" she moaned frantic.

He lifted, she followed, he thrust and she bit back a gasp. He knew she was holding back…he would not have that. He pushed harder, he wanted everything.

She gasped and stars burst, angels wept, light flooded and it felt like Creation and the end of the world. She screamed as she came. She felt like she died and yet was finally alive at the same moment. She'd been holding back for so long, holding that small bit in a grip so tight she didn't know how to let go—but he demanded everything and for the first time she willing gave it all.

House felt her shatter, saw her eyes blaze, he taken everything. He made her scream his name. He had never seen anything like it; it was innocent and in the way she gave it was pure and whole, and amazing. He finally let his control go, finally letting himself pour into her, and as he did he realized that no woman had ever or would ever fill him like she did. She took everything of his and gave everything more in return. He was hers completely…they toppled over the edge together. They fell hard and the fall was beautiful.

He buried his face into hollow of her neck, collapsing onto her and she accepted his weight without protest. If he would but lift his head and look to her face he would find tears slowly falling down her cheeks. He had made her scream, cry—and whole.

So still joined they lay finally feeling complete for the first times in their lives.

------------------------------------------------------

Chase saw him come in, saw him possess her with a single look. She responded in kind.

Why! Why had he ever thought he could have her? How had ever convinced himself that she could learn to love him? And why, Chase asked himself desperately, had he ever wanted her in red?

**--End--**


End file.
